


The Easy Fix

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Ghost Assignment, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 01:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: "The last thing he said was that he trusted you to fix it," Quill said.  He pushed Tony at Peter.  Instead of holding his ground, Tony went with it, pitching forward into Peter's arms.  "As the easy fix is really easy—just fuck him until he goes back to normal—I figure you've got a day at most to put up with this."





	The Easy Fix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).

> LF, this was written for the prompt "Normally smart character turned into a bimbo/himbo and needs to be fucked smart again" and picked up a few sex pollen-y and terrible hurt/comfort elements to it, too. Remember, you asked for this. 
> 
> In this fic, either Tony and Pepper didn't work out or they're no longer together post-resurrection. Point being: it's not a concern at the beginning. Otherwise, it's vaguely canon-compliant.

Space was weird and amazing, and sometimes awful things came from it. 

Sometimes great things came from it, too. At one point, a couple years after the Blip, Captain Marvel had wandered back to Earth with Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark in tow and said, "I understand you were missing a couple heroes. Here you go," and dropped them off on the new SHIELD's doorstep like a couple of abandoned kittens. Peter was admittedly a fan of that. 

But other times, space brought with it fucked up space drugs that turned one's newly returned mentor into a giggling and thirsty mess who'd received a personality transplant.

"The last thing he said was that he trusted you to fix it," Quill said. He pushed Tony at Peter. Instead of holding his ground, Tony went with it, pitching forward into Peter's arms. "As the easy fix is really easy—just fuck him until he goes back to normal—I figure you've got a day at most to put up with this."

"Mr. Stark wanted me to have sex with him?" Peter asked. Tony ran his hands up Peter's chest and looped them behind Peter's neck. He nuzzled at Peter's throat.

"Probably." Quill shrugged.

"Maybe." Rocket also shrugged.

"I am Groot." Groot shrugged.

"Do you at least have a sample of the drug? Maybe I can reverse engineer a cure," Peter said.

"Knock yourself out," Rocket said, passing a vial over. "Just don't get it on you."

Peter took the vial and Tony and took up residence in Tony's private lab. Just because no one else had come up with a solution didn't mean it didn't exist.

"I don't suppose you can help?" Peter said as FRIDAY ran a chemical analysis.

"I can help you out with whatever you want," Tony said in a voice that was practically a purr. "Just tell me what you need."

"Oh. Huh. The Guardians said you weren't really talking." Peter had a brief moment of hope. Maybe Tony was getting better on his own.

"I know one way you can shut me up," Tony said as he dropped into Peter's lap. He fluttered his eyelashes. "You can put my mouth to _much_ better use."

"That's—no. That doesn't sound like a good idea," Peter said, which was a lie, because it sounded like a great idea to at least one part of himself, but that part didn't get a vote. "Why don't you go sit in the corner while I work?"

Because Tony was a bizarro version of himself, he got up and sat in the corner while Peter worked.

—

Peter kept working throughout the night. At some point, Tony got up and curled up at Peter's feet. He fell asleep with his head pressed to Peter's thigh.

"You can do this," Peter told himself. He looked at the data, which seemed to blur in front of him. Peter had already been burning the candle at both ends before the Guardians showed up at the new Avengers Compound and insisted on speaking to Peter. He'd finished his last final for university and had only been at the Compound because he'd wanted to see if Tony was back yet. In a way, Tony still wasn't back, even if he was currently drooling on Peter's jeans. "Tony trusted you. You can fix this."

"Mm." Tony opened his eyes slightly. Peter had noticed how long his eyelashes were before, but now he felt like he was really _noticing_. "Did you need me?"

"No. Go back to sleep." Peter petted at Tony's hair until he drifted off again.

Ugh. Peter had very real concerns that Tony's trust had been misplaced.

—

Peter had managed to fall sleep sitting up in the lab chair. He was alerted to this fact by waking up to Tony's hands skating up his thighs. Tony smiled up at Peter, peering coyly up from under his eyelashes. It was both super hot and incredibly disturbing.

"Someone was having a good dream," Tony said teasingly.

Oh. Great. To add to his humiliation, he was painfully, obviously hard. Tony trailed a finger across Peter's erection.

"I can make waking even better," Tony offered.

"Mr. Stark—" Peter's voice cracked. This was not ideal.

Tony bent his head and mouthed at Peter through the denim. Peter put a hand on Tony's forehead and pushed him firmly, but gently back. Tony honest to goodness pouted, lower lip jutting out. Peter had never before known that it was possible to be this hard and this horrified at once.

"How about we assume the answer is no unless I give a solid yes?" Peter said weakly.

"Or," Tony said like he was presenting a well put together counterargument, "you could let me blow you."

"Still a no," Peter said.

"You're right." Tony hummed thoughtfully. He rubbed his hand across Peter's erection. "You should save this bad boy for bending me over the workbench."

Peter stared at the ceiling. He was pretty sure some alternate universe version of himself had wished on a monkey's paw. That was the only reasonable explanation for this, everything Peter had thought he wanted in exactly the way to make sure he didn't want it.

"I'm going to get back to work now. Please. Go back to waiting in the corner."

Tony did. Peter felt kind of like he was going to be sick.

—

Peter took a break to make them breakfast. Tony plastered himself against Peter's back as he flipped the pancakes. He was increasingly glad no one else was around to see this.

"I could be so good to you," Tony said. He rubbed his goatee against the side of Peter's neck. "You may not want me specifically, but I promise my skills in bed would make up for who they come attached to."

"You're not the problem," Peter said. "The problem is you're not you."

"So if I weren't drugged, you would be up for this?" Tony asked.

"Oh, man, you're going to remember this, aren't you?" Peter poked sadly at his pancakes. "This is the worst start to summer."

"If you want to have sex with me while I'm not drugged—" Tony ran his hands up Peter's chest, rubbing his fingers against the thin cotton of Peter's t-shirt and tweaking his nipples. "—then you should fuck me until I'm back to normal."

"Your logic is faulty, and I am done arguing this with you." Peter scooped the pancakes out of the skillet and deposited them on the plate by the stove. "Eat your breakfast."

Tony sighed, a small, wistful sound. "Fine. But only because we'll need our strength."

Tony ate his pancakes with his bare fingers, licking syrup off his fingertips. By the time Peter was done cooking his own pancakes, Tony was a sticky mess. He climbed into Peter's lap again and insisted on trying to feed him.

It was the worst. This was the worst.

—

It had been 24 hours. FRIDAY and Peter had barely begun to make heads or tails of the compound running through Tony's bloodstream. All scans and blood tests had shown that Tony wasn't getting any better.

Peter put his head down on Tony's desk. He asked a question he didn't expect an answer to. "When you said you trusted me to fix this, what did you mean?"

"That you'd either come up with a cure or fuck me." Tony was sitting at Peter's feet again, playing with the hems of the legs of his jeans and tracing the ribbing of his socks. He shrugged. "Or you'd pick out someone to do the fucking for you. I wasn't going to push you into making a choice."

"You've been nothing but pushy," Peter said.

"That's because I have almost zero control over my actions right now," Tony said. His fingers trailed over the dips and curves of Peter's ankle. "Just enough not to beg, really."

"You want to beg," Peter said blankly. 

"I would if I thought it would help. It hurts how much I want you. I can hardly think straight." Tony rested his chin on Peter's knee. His smile was off. "I can't think straight, not really. It's bad enough I'm in love with you, but now every nerve in my body is crying out to be touched, and you're the only one I want to do it."

"You're in love with me?" Peter asked. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Does it matter?" Tony rubbed his cheek against Peter's leg. Whatever coherence he'd pulled together seemed to desert him. He closed his eyes. He said, "You could bend me over this desk. I keep lube in the drawer. There are condoms, too, but you don't have to use them."

"_Tony_," Peter said.

"Or I could give you a handjob. I'm very good at that." Tony's voice was cheerful again. It was as though he'd never spoken a word that hadn't been a sexual proposition. "Or you could stay there and fuck my mouth. I don't have a gag reflex."

Peter dropped a hand on Tony's head. "Is there anything that helps?"

"Touching you." Tony continued to stroke at the skin of Peter's ankle. "It would be better if we were naked."

"I don't want to take advantage of you," Peter said.

Tony laughed. He almost sounded like himself. He smiled. It was a little bit sultry, but mostly it was darkly amused. "It's funny. That was my reason for never touching you."

—

At thirty-six hours, it became apparent that Tony's new propensity for lying around by Peter's feet was because he had difficulty standing.

"Oh, yeah, my balance is as fucked as I need to be," Tony said, a slight slurring to his voice. "Did they not tell you that? They should have told you that. So if you want to do anything standing, you're going to need to hold me up."

"What else should I know?" Peter asked, dabbing at the cut to Tony's temple with an iodine wipe. He'd done a header into the desk when Peter had told him to get up for dinner.

"It'll keep getting worse." Tony waved a hand carelessly. "Thinking becomes more difficult as time passes. The pain increases. Masturbation doesn't really help. Something about genetic material while stimulating—something." Tony gave a half-shrug. "Eventually, if you don't get help, you die."

Peter went cold all over. "You could die."

"Eventually," Tony said. He leaned into the iodine wipe despite the fact that surely it had to sting. "That feels nice."

"When you said that it hurt when I wasn't touching you, you meant that literally," Peter realized.

"Yep." Tony stroked his fingers against Peter's forearm. "I should fall into more desks."

"No," Peter said. More quietly, "No, that's not necessary. Come on, let me get a band-aid on this, and then—" Peter felt like a terrible person, but he'd feel worse if he left Tony in pain or _let him die_. "We can go to my room, okay?" 

It was more a temporary place to crash than an actual bedroom, but in a way, that made it ideal. Peter stopped to grab the lube from the desk and hesitated for a moment over the condoms. In the end, he left them there, because what Tony had said about genetic material meant that maybe it would, as messed up as this whole situation was, be more harmful to him to engage in safe sex.

When Tony slumped into Peter, instead of trying to get him to walk by himself, Peter picked him up and carried him.

—

"Can I blow you first?" Tony asked when Peter laid him out on the bed. "I'd really like to blow you. You can go more than once, right? I thought so because of your healing factor, but really, that was just idle speculation."

"You can do whatever you want. This is your show now," Peter said. "Just let me get undressed." Peter's hands shook as he got his belt undone and shoved his pants off. He stripped quickly, efficiently, and then threw all his clothes in a pile in the corner of the room. Then he turned to help Tony out of his. "If there's something you think would help more than whatever we're doing, I need you to tell me, okay?"

"Come sit on the bed," Tony said.

Peter sat on the bed. Tony put his head in Peter's lap again, but didn't stop there, mouthing at his left thigh, then the crease of his hip, then licking sloppily at Peter's dick. Whatever game Tony had talked about how good he was in bed, he wasn't showcasing it. It didn't matter. Tony sucked at the head of Peter's dick, and Peter whimpered at the combination of how it felt, the image presented to him, and the knowledge that this was _Tony Stark_ sucking his dick, which was like half of his wet dreams come to life. Tony took Peter down fast, like he couldn't get enough, and moaned when Peter hit the back of his throat. He kept going.

Peter clenched his hands in the sheets. He couldn't figure out if he should try to last or if it would be over faster for Tony if it was also over faster for Peter. In the end, Peter let it happen, orgasm rolling over him as Tony sucked and hummed and made pleased noises. Tony pulled back when Peter was done and climbed into his lap again. He threw his arms around Peter's neck and writhed against him. Tony rubbed his dick urgently against Peter's abdomen, leaving a smear of pre-come where the head pressed against him.

Tony had said before that he didn't want to beg, but now he was saying, "Please, please, please," almost sobbing with it. Peter pulled Tony down so they were lying flat and kissed him.

"Did you want to fuck me?" Peter asked.

Tony shook his head before burying his face in Peter's shoulder. "_Please_."

Peter reached between them and got a hand on Tony's dick. In just a few pulls, he was coming all over Peter's wrist, hand, and stomach. Tony slumped against Peter for a moment.

"What can I do?" Peter asked.

"I want you inside me," Tony said. "I need it. Please."

Peter got the lube and poured some out on his fingers. Tony flopped on his back and drew his legs up. He was trembling all over. When Peter inserted the first finger, Tony cried out. When Peter got the second in, Tony was trying to fuck himself on them, rocking his body forward to meet them every time they pressed in. 

"Now," Tony said. "I need it now. Stop teasing me and _fuck me_."

Peter applied more lubricant to his dick, and he'd like to say that the circumstances meant he wasn't that hard yet, that he was the sort of person where his horror overrode having Tony on his back and begging for it. Peter was a terrible person. He was fully erect, already achingly ready for it despite having just come. Tony was out of his mind, but apparently that wasn't the actual deterrent it ought to be. Peter crawled over top of Tony, lined them up, and pushed into him.

Tony made noises Peter had mostly heard in porn, noises he'd think were fake if Tony were capable of artifice in the moment. "Fuck, yes, just like that," Tony said as Peter bottomed out. "That's it. Give it to me."

Peter wondered how Tony would normally sound when he was having sex. What he would normally say. If he would be this responsive, this needy.

"Come on, come on," Tony said impatiently when Peter just stayed there a moment, trying to give Tony's body time to adjust. Tony dug one of his heels into the small of Peter's back as though trying to pull him in further, though Peter was already as deep as he could go. "Fuck me already."

Peter did. It wasn't that bad. Tony's body provided a tight hole to fuck, wet with lubricant. The gasps and moans and whines Tony gave provided a pornographic soundtrack that amplified the experience. If Peter closed his eyes and Tony didn't actually say anything, Peter could almost pretend this was just some random hook-up, a nice evening that could be forgotten when it was over. He could pretend this wasn't going to haunt him.

"Peter. Pete. Kid. Please." Tony whimpered. "I need—I need—"

"What do you need?" Peter asked.

"Harder," Tony said. "Make me feel it."

So Peter went harder. He dug bruises into Tony's hips with his hands as he snapped his hips forward. The bed shook. Their bodies made obscene sounds as their skin slapped together. Peter felt sick, but that was fine. The rest of his body didn't know any better, and he could give Tony this. He could give Tony whatever he needed.

Tony clawed at Peter's back and came with a shout.

Peter slowed down, but he didn't stop. He switched back to something gentler, something that could maybe take him to where he needed to go. Tony sighed softly in his ear. He petted at Peter's back.

"Mm, that's good. You should keep doing that." Tony pressed a kiss to Peter's cheek. "You should come inside of me."

Peter laughed, though it wasn't funny. "I'm trying."

"What would help?" Tony asked.

"This is about helping _you_," Peter said.

"Nothing says we can't multitask." Tony licked a stripe up Peter's neck. He sucked on Peter's earlobe. He bit gently at Peter's neck. He said, "You're so good at this, at giving me exactly what I need when I need it. You're perfect. This is perfect."

"Mr. Stark, please," Peter said, because the false praise in particular wasn't helping, "unless you need something, don't talk."

Tony shut up. It made it worse. Peter closed his eyes, but he couldn't pretend anymore.

Peter slowed to a halt. He rested his forehead against Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

Tony ran a hand through Peter's hair. "What if you jerked off on me? Then you could push it inside. Or I could blow you again. What can I do to help?"

"I just want you to be you," Peter said.

"I'm still me," Tony said. He ran his foot up the back of Peter's calf. "I just have my priorities in the wrong order and can't concentrate on anything but getting your dick inside of me for more than thirty seconds at a time."

"You don't really want this." Peter's eyes burned. "You've never given any indication before this stupid space drug that you wanted me."

"If you think that," Tony said, still stroking Peter's hair, "then you haven't been paying attention." He shifted suddenly. "Now. Unless it's your secret kink, you should stop focusing on all the things that are making you sad about this situation and beating yourself up about it and instead focus on the fact that you have someone here ready and willing to do whatever you want so long as it involves you orgasming at the end. Preferably inside of them. Ideally, multiple times."

Peter didn't want to, but he did want to give Tony whatever he needed. Peter sucked it up. He tried harder. Eventually, he was able to get there. Multiple times, even.

"We should shower," Peter said much, much later, sprawled out on the bed beside Tony. They were sticky with dried sweat and semen and really gross. The last time Peter had suggested it, Tony had insisted on just one more time, which had turned into two. This time, Tony made a tiny helpless sound and flopped a hand on Peter's chest.

"No moving," Tony said.

"What if we bathe together?" Peter asked.

"Can't move," Tony clarified.

"What if I bathe you?" Peter offered.

"Your terms are acceptable," Tony said.

There was an en suite to Peter's room. He'd never used the bathtub before, but he turned on the shower and got them both soaped up and rinsed off while the the tub filled. Tony wasn't bothering to stand on his own, but Peter was able to lift and move and manipulate his body, like some sort of life-sized doll Peter had gotten particularly filthy. Peter tried really hard not to think about a Real Doll shaped like Tony. Oh, no, he was already thinking about it. Washing Tony was weird and it was awkward and it was a little bit creepy, but it was manageable. 

After he turned the shower off, Peter dragged Tony into the bathtub, cradling him in his arms. Tony leaned back against Peter's chest. He kept sliding down, and Peter wrapped both arms around him to hold him in place.

"You can fuck me again if you want to," Tony said sleepily. "Or not. I think I'm good." His head lolled back. He had his eyes closed. Water trickled from his hair down his face and neck. "If not for how much you hated it and my own inability to contribute in any meaningful way, today would've been kind of perfect. Homemade meals. Lab time. Lots of sex. The sort of first date where you know everything's going to work out fine."

"You sound like you're feeling better," Peter said hesitantly.

"Mostly," Tony agreed. "I can think again at least."

"Are you okay?" Peter asked.

"I'm sore, exhausted, and embarrassed," Tony admitted. "And still a bit too honest, but other than all that, yeah. I'm okay."

"You're not, um, you're not mad at me?" Peter asked.

"You didn't do anything I didn't want," Tony said. He opened his eyes and smiled wryly. "I have zero complaints on my own behalf. I'm a little sorry you made yourself go through with it instead of delegating, but that's because _you_ seemed like you really weren't enjoying yourself."

"Did you mean it?" Peter had to know. "What you said?"

"Which thing?" Tony brought a hand up to Peter's forearm. He trailed his fingers from Peter's elbow to his wrist. "I said a lot of things. Admittedly, most of them revolved around how much I wanted to have sex with you."

"You said that you—" Peter took a deep breath, made himself say it. "You said you loved me. That you were in love with me."

"Yeah." Tony sighed. "That was true. All of it was, really."

"Oh." Peter buried his face in Tony's shoulder. "That's—good. That's good."

"Is it?" Tony asked. 

"Yeah." Peter smiled to himself. "It is." He pressed a kiss to Tony's shoulder. "But, uh, to make sure … tell me again tomorrow?"

"I'll tell you whenever you want," Tony said.

—

Peter dried Tony off, then propped him in a chair, towel wrapped clumsily around his waist, while Peter changed the sheets. Tony didn't object to Peter's assumption he would be spending the night, and Peter hoped it was because he was tired and wanted to be there, not because the drug was still active in his system. Peter changed the bandage on Tony's head while he was at it, because the last one had gotten wet. When they were in bed, Tony curled close and threw a leg over Peter.

"Good night, Tony," Peter said softly.

"'Night, kid," Tony said.

—

In the morning, Peter woke up to Tony's gently smiling face.

"Hey, there," Tony said.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asked.

"Cautiously optimistic," Tony said. "How about you?"

Peter felt the same.

"Hey, Pete?" Tony ran his fingers along Peter's jawline. "It wasn't how I wanted to say it, but I do love you."

Peter kissed Tony, and this time it was everything he'd ever wanted.

—

Everything worked out fine.


End file.
